


To the Ends of the Earth

by toradhiontach



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Emotional Edging, M/M, Magic, Mutual Pining, Pining, Protective Dream, Slow Burn, anime protagonist Technoblade, himbo Sapnap
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-28
Updated: 2020-09-28
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:55:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26697871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toradhiontach/pseuds/toradhiontach
Summary: Dream's dying mother gave him a single instruction: find all seven End Crystals to save a world on the brink of chaos. After the Enderdragon's death the Overworld was overrun with endermen. Emboldened, Piglins poured out of the Nether to join them, and monsters of all kinds followed in their wake.What few human kingdoms remain are struggling to hold on. Time is of the essence. Dream and his friends embark on a quest to reach the End and restore balance to the world.Along the way Dream faces dangers beyond count, but his greatest fear of all is not assassins, monsters, criminals or natural disasters, but the growing realization that he's in love with his begoggled best friend, and that George might not love him back.
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), among others - Relationship, eventual Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 79





	To the Ends of the Earth

**Author's Note:**

> This is a tryhard fantasy au! Below is a crude map that might help give a better sense of scale and what's going on. The first chapter takes place to the east of the blob marked 2 on the map. I also made conlangs for it because of course I did. Sometimes, people use worldbuilding instead of writing, to cope?
> 
> There's some stuff I could tag for that I won't for the sake of not fully knowing the plot yet but what I do know is better left as a surprise. George R.R. Martin who? 
> 
> If you're from twitter the DnF content is uh... ironic? Don't worry I would *never* earnestly ship real life people who've expressed nothing but enthusiasm for fanworks that ship them together ;)

  
  


The power sword hummed brightly, a dim blue light illuminating the charred remains of the zombie crumpled on the ground. Dream panted heavily, a small smile on his face, and a welcome dull ache in his sword arm. Around him, dozens of monsters lay in pieces- short work for him. 

“Dream!” George yelped, freewheeling his arms to keep from tripping over a smoldering corpse. 

“I’m here,” Dream called breathily, not looking behind him.

“Dream!” George repeated, “Wh- all these undead? You did all this?” he added skeptically, “You should have _waited_ for us!” 

Dream rolled his eyes, turning off his power sword and resting the still warm blade on his shoulder with a satisfied sigh. Sweat trickled down his forehead and into his eyes, but his mask prevented him from wiping it away. He just embraced the sharp sting. 

“ _Please_ ,” Dream said, turning to face George, “you know you two idiot babies would only have slowed me down.”

George sputtered in protest again.

Just then, the wall to the side of Dream exploded with a thunderous crack and rained debris and rubble. George let out a surprised squeal, but Dream wasn’t bothered. At worst, a few small chunks of rock bounced harmlessly off his chestplate. The bigger rocks he deflected with his fist, making sure none hit George’s cowering form.

Sapnap fit perfectly in the new hole in the wall, blocking out the midday sunlight. 

“You didn’t save any for me _again_!” he whined after scanning the dank chamber.

“Didn’t want you to pull one of those huge muscles,” Dream chuckled. His mask winked in Sapnap’s direction. 

Sapnap stamped his foot, causing the ground of the temple to waver a little. An involuntary moan escaped George’s lips, his fingers turning white from how tightly he clutched a sconce on the wall to keep from falling over. 

“You just want all the glory for yourself!” Sapnap challenged, pulling out his massive battle axe. It was an empty threat, and Dream knew it. Still, his blood started to rush, eager to prove that he was the superior fighter and put Sapnap in his place. Dream’s thumb hovered over the trigger that would power his plasma sword.

“No! No… Dream- _Dream_. Stop fighting! Now! I’m sick of you two!” George squawked. Dream and Sapnap backed down, with a little hesitation. Sapnap sheathed his axe, and Dream did the same with his sword. It was all in good fun anyway, and the two shot knowing grins at each other.

“Why was a horde of undead this far north in autumn? What were they doing in this temple? It’s too convenient that they were on our exact path,” George continued.

“That’s _your_ job to figure out _professor_ , you don’t have much use otherwise,” Sapnap teased, then patted his belly and let out a gut busting guffaw. Dream joined in with his own wheeze of a laugh. 

George’s ears burned bright enough red to rival the dim torches lining the temple walls. He bit back a comment about Sapnap being a glorified bodyguard, instead adjusting his glasses and scanning the hieroglyphics on the nearest door. All three knew he wouldn’t find out much that he didn’t already know about the ancient temple of Inobria, and what new information he scoured probably wouldn’t help them find the remaining End Crystals. But Dream preferred optimism.

“I’m starving,” Dream glanced at Sapnap, who was practicing juggling with some decent sized wall fragments, “what’s Puffy cooking tonight?”

“Eret is cooking tonight,” Sapnap said, his tongue poked out of his mouth and his bushy eyebrows furrowed in concentration. The rocks pelted off his face one after the other. He sighed and scooped them up to try again.

“Oh, I _love_ mushroom stew,” Dream drawled sarcastically.

Dream and Sapnap left George to his work, hearing his little confused mutters, interspersed with cries of surprise, echo down the dark halls. The mouth on Dream’s mask curled into a fond little grin. He leaned on a slimy wall, whetting his power sword, whistling tunelessly to himself.

“What makes you think we’ll find an End Crystal in these woods,” Sapnap asked suddenly. Now he was trying to balance his battle axe on the tip of his finger, but it kept clattering to the floor with a bang. They both giggled timing how long it took the clipped little “Ah!” to bounce down from another chamber.

“Inobria is supposed to have the violet End Crystal, if the rumors are true,” Dream shrugged. 

“You should never just believe rumors just because,” Sapnap blinked owlishly at Dream, almost innocently. Dream’s mask’s grin widened considerably.

Several hours passed before George emerged from the gloom, covered in dust, shaking biting silverfish off his throbbing fingers.  
“Thanks for all your _help_ ,” George bit at Sapnap, who just stifled a giggle. Dream strode over and smacked him lightly on the arm. It was Sapnap’s job to make sure nothing happened to George after all. Nonetheless he also snickered at George’s pouty face. The big inscrutable goggles covering his eyes combined with his jut out lower lip made him look so pathetic yet so cute at the same time. Dream’s mask practically blushed.

“George, calm down…” Dream said through his smile, “any luck?”

George shook his head balefully- no more hints here. They’d have to look elsewhere. 

“Damn it,” Dream muttered, his mask slipping into a despondent frown. He shouldn’t have gotten his hopes up. Maybe he was just tired of wandering the earth on some stupid quest he wasn’t even sure would amount to anything. George walked past and pat his shoulder in sympathy. Dream shouldn’t have felt so _warm_ from such a simple gesture.

“Let’s go, have a hot meal, start looking for clues again tomorrow,” Sapnap supplied. The others didn’t need to be convinced.

The trio were making their way back to their camp, just as the sun started to dip in the sky. They failed to notice a lone figure watching them from afar, atop the ruined and crumbling walls of the ancient kingdom. They certainly couldn’t have noticed the figure’s sable glove clad hand tighten into a hateful fist on the hilt of his sword.

George shivered as a breeze ripped through the trees and cut right through his thin shirt. 

“Dream, I’m cold!” he whined.

Dream rolled his eyes (though his mask’s eyes tightened in fondness) and wordlessly shrugged off his outer coat, draping it over George’s shoulders. George practically preened while Sapnap pretended to vomit. 

“Why don’t you just get warmer clothes instead of stealing all of Dream’s?” Sapnap bumped his shoulder into George, almost knocking him over. Dream could hear the tiniest trace of bitterness in his voice.

“I _had_ warm clothes, but then you _burned_ them all in Kvarhölm!”

Dream laughed at the memory of that day. George had thrown a legendary tantrum, all over an accident. Sapnap had dubbed that episode “The Baby Rage.” 

“Hey, I’m still learning fire magic!” Sapnap’s cheeks burned, “are you ever going to let that go?”

“No,” George’s voice dripped with all the sweetness of poisoned honey. Sapnap feigned a lunge at him and laughed when George yelped and leapt back several feet.

“Just have Puffy make you a protection rune,” Sapnap said between giggles, “like this.” He pointed to the flame embroidered on his shirt, which had been imbued with a spell to prevent it from burning or charring or otherwise being affected by heat. It was very useful for a novice fire mage.

“Yes, I _know_ what that is, you- ” George fell silent, his face turning even more pale than usual, when a loud crack echoed throughout the otherwise peaceful woods. 

Dream’s hand automatically found its way to his scabbard, as he whipped his head around, looking for danger behind every tree. He instinctively sought to put himself between George and any and all threats, but George had already drawn his bow taught, his face determined. Dream felt a swell of pride despite his anxiousness.

“Show yourself coward!” Sapnap roared, grabbing the nearest log, and hurling it as far as he could in a random direction. The only response was a flock of birds cawing in alarm as they burst through the canopy, followed by a dull thump. 

“I think that scared them off,” Sapnap smirked, dusting off his hands.

“Maybe it was nothing,” George said hesitantly, but another crack reverberated, proving him wrong. They could hear a metallic clink, followed by the sound of bark crackling and wood creaking, then a loud thud as a tree was felled. 

Dream peered as far as he could in the direction of the noise, but he could only see so far into the undergrowth. The day was fading fast and thick fog had begun to roll over the little hills in the woods.

“What can you see?” Dream whisper yelled to George, his free hand reaching blindly for George, gripping the sleeve of his own coat tightly. 

George wiggled his nose, to fiddle with his glasses without using his hands.

“There are the ruins of walls or something over there. Someone is there- armed. They’re angry,” George said quietly. His bow arm trembled a little. Then he released the tension and put his arrow back in his quiver. George groaned quietly, the way he did when he knew they were in for a tough fight.

Dream’s mouth fell open in shock, and his mask mirrored his expression exactly.

“George! What are you doing?!”

“Their aura is more powerful than anyone’s I’ve ever seen, Dream; I can’t hurt them with my _bow_ , I’m _useless_.”

“Strongest aura you’ve ever seen? Even stronger than mine?” Dream asked quietly after a minute of silence.

George rolled his eyes. Dream knew his every microexpression well enough by now to recognize from the way his eyebrows moved and the way he was holding back a disgusted sneer that George was rolling his eyes. He let a tiny giggle bubble up, feeling a little less tense about the upcoming battle.

He noticed his hand had not left George’s arm, and he noticed the way George was subtly leaning into the touch, and he noticed the way George had lessened his visible shaking at Dream’s poor attempt at humor.

The levity dissipated and Dream’s hand moved up the sleeve of its own volition, threatening to cup George’s distressed and sad face. Dream knew George blamed himself for most of their mistakes, he did the same himself. But George also continually discounted his own skills, and that Dream _didn’t_ understand.

“You’re not useless George, I lo-”

“Trespassers! Defilers! Usurpers! **Die**!”

Dream barely had time to drive George to the ground before a blur of red, white, pink, and dark, cold gray flashed above them. The sword would’ve sliced cleanly through George’s neck had Dream not tackled him.

George let out a confused and frightened gasp, followed by a grunt as Dream landed on top of him, armor and all. Sapnap let out a high pitched squeal, widely arcing his battle axe but hitting nothing. Dream rose, with nothing but a determined harrumph. 

His sword drew smoothly out of its sheath. Dream rolled the shoulder of his sword arm. His thumb hit the trigger, and a loud hiss permeated the darkening woods. A sinister blue traveled up the sharp edge of the sword, washing Dream in eerie light. Dream’s mask was barely visible in the glow, contorted in pure, murderous rage.

The man (was he a man?) had broken his momentum by burying his sword deep within the trunk of a strong old oak. With a flick of the muscles on his right side, the trunk exploded into hundreds of shards of wood. The rest of the tree unceremoniously collapsed on the spot. 

The man turned. 

Sapnap audibly gasped.

“What are you!?” he shrieked, turning into a two handed stance. Sapnap could kill anyone in a single blow, but Dream had a feeling this stranger would be the exception.

They were greeted with the image of a tall, slender man in rich clothing: velvet, silk, lace, and fur. But in place of a young man’s head was the head of a pig, snarling, gruesome, its beady eyes hinting at just enough intelligence to hate. Wicked looking tusks sprouted from a grimacing mouth, steam bellowed from the large snout, and its ears twitched. Atop this grotesque display was a heavy looking golden crown, barely fitted to his monstrous head. He looked like a madman, if pigs could be madmen. 

“What am I?” The creature spoke with a deep rumble, “What am _I_? I am your undoing!” 

He lunged forward. His first target was apparently George, correctly analyzing him as the smallest and therefore the weakest. It was a strategy Dream himself used. It was foolhardy to immediately focus on the largest and most dangerous threat. Its smaller allies would mob you and you’d most likely get yourself killed. Use speed and deception, and superior skill, and take out the weaker foes one by one until your position was safer. The pig headed man _was_ intelligent, just as adept at strategy as Dream. _That_ , to Dream, was far scarier than his lightening fast movements and precise attacks.

Dream launched himself in the air to intercept the coming blow, but George (after an expected squeal of horror) effortlessly slid underneath the swing of the pigman’s sword, kicking out his leg as he spun around under him. The pigman almost tripped as he followed through with the swing.

He whirled around with a dramatic flair of his cape. 

“Not. Bad,” he grit out. “But not good enough.” 

George had given up ground, and was supine on the forest floor. He was completely vulnerable. The pigman raised his sword to deliver the killing blow.

“Hey!” Sapnap yelled, throwing a rock that missed their attacker by a mile, “pick on someone your own size!”

“Well that rules you out,” the pigman said dryly. But his sword arm lowered all the same.

Dream stepped forward. “Fight me then,” his heart was beating out of its chest. “Fight me, man to man. You know my small friend is no match for you. Neither is my big friend honestly. Where’s the honor in that, hmm?”

Dream brandished his power sword.

“Fight _me_ , I _am_ a match for you.” 

“But Dream-” Sapnap started to protest, but Dream’s hand silenced him. Dream shifted his stance and felt his heart beating steadily, hearing the rush of his blood in his ears. Sapnap could help, no doubt. But this was a fight he needed to do alone. He wasn’t willing to let Sapnap and George get hurt fighting a man this dangerous. He was ready.

The pigman regarded him for a moment, then nodded curtly, as if he could read Dream’s mind. “I see honor is something still valued in this dying and decrepit world. Very well. It’s a duel then.”

Sapnap whined to himself but he trusted Dream completely, and he still he yanked George by the collar of Dream’s coat. He dragged George farther away from the intended battlefield toward the trees. Dream knew Sapnap would forgive him for yet again holding him back. Staying alive was more important than glory.

The pigman shunted off his cloak with a small smirk. Dream cracked his neck. He regripped his sword, two handed, bouncing on the soles of his feet, breathing intently. 

Then a pink finger flashed, and the ordinary looking sword began to hum to life. That metallic clinking and clacking they had heard just a few minutes earlier returned. Tendrils of smoke rose from the hilt, and the blade itself began to vibrate, and seemed to grow larger. And then out of nowhere the blade forked in two, as if one had been hidden on top of the other. Both halves of the blade _did_ grow larger. They began to slice back and forth, first slowly, but gaining speed. The chugging of the sword’s little engine was almost deafening at such a close distance. 

“Wait! I’ve heard of that sword! That’s the Technoblade!” George shouted over the whirring, “it’s the deadliest weapon ever crafted! You’re no match Dream!”

“His name is Technoblade?” Sapnap yelled.

“No you stupid dumb _idiot_! I don’t know who that is, he’s _wielding_ the Technoblade!” George tried to answer before a loud crack of energy made him wince. He scampered behind a giant moss covered bolder. Sapnap stood his ground… just further away than the second before.

Dream hesitated at this display. It almost cost him his life as the ancient sword sheared a few hairs from the top of his head like a giant pair of scissors. The deadliest weapon ever created? A man who not even George had heard of? What were they dealing with?

Dream really wished he had a shield right now, but he figured the Technoblade was capable of punching through a shield like wax paper, and cutting through his armor like butter.

“Get yourself together,” Dream whispered to himself hoarsely. Speed would win the day here, and the element of surprise, with strong follow through. No more hesitating. The pigman at least waited for him, realizing his opening move was a cheap shot. Dream screamed as he jumped up, the arc of his stroke leaving a trail of blinding blue light. The pigman shifted to the side effortlessly, and countered with a short stroke of his own, one of the two blades straightening out and jutting forward.

Dream flipped backward, avoiding being stabbed straight through the heart. Sweat once again stung his eyes, but he didn’t relish it this time. 

Their duel was brutal. The pigman favored aggression, and he was able to suss out Dream’s slightly more careful approach to combat. Every time Dream made a play, his opponent countered it with little effort. He’d always return every one of Dream’s attack with a furious assault that Dream struggled to read. Dream was on the defensive, constantly giving ground, straining to simply avoid a mistake and dying. He was not in a position to win, but Dream put that out of his mind.

Their blades met, the hum of the power sword growing louder and louder, almost to match the mechanic clanking of its rival sword as it struggled to hold off the Technoblade. Sparks flew from both weapons, and the whirling cracks of energy filled Dream’s ears, the smell of charred plasma filled his nose. His assailant leaned closer, his voice just barely straining from the effort of holding Dream off.

“This is my kingdom, and I have guarded it from peasant _thieves_ like you for longer than you know. You will join the mountain of corpses who thought they too, were different, who thought they could defeat _me_!”

He leapt back. Dream had trouble predicting his movements when he moved so fast and with so little of his body language gave away his intentions. It was as if his muscles didn’t even need to flex for him to achieve movement. The Technoblade suddenly whirred into even more life, the blade detaching from the hilt on a strong cord. The pigman flicked his wrist and the cord extended faster than the blink of an eye. 

Dream rolled out of the way as the blade sunk deep into the earth. With another casual flick the blade retracted back into the hilt.  
“We’re not thieves!” Dream huffed out, barely catching his breath before rolling out of the way of another blow. 

“Liar! I know what you want! They all search for it, thinking it will give them wealth, power, immortality. But they all _fail_. Technoblade never dies! This will be your grave! Earn it with dignity and I might even mark where you fall!” 

“Come on!” Dream roared, attempting to cut the blade from its rope but the material was just as strong as the rest of the weapon, and his plasma sword only achieved knocking it off its trajectory.

The pigman scoffed.

Dream attempted a straight attack, intending to drive his sword through the heart, but once again he was sidestepped with little effort. The pigman learned from his encounters it seemed, or at least had a sense of irony, as he tripped Dream as he circled around him.

Dream landed on his back and without a moment to lose began rolling in the first direction he could sense.

Another thud, Dream looked centimeters to his right at the blade sticking out of the soil. The Technoblade thrummed even louder, oily black smoke snaking from the hilt. And then another blade appeared to be growing out of the other end of the hilt. With yet another flick of his wrist the opposite blade also flung forward on a cord.

Dream just barely ducked as it sliced open the part of his arm that was uncovered, and embedded itself in a tree. Thin rivulets of blood dripped off the end of his hand. He clenched it into a fist and grit his teeth.

“Dream!” George and Sapnap both cried in dismay. 

The other half of the Technoblade whizzed past his face, bouncing with a clang off the boulder George was hiding behind, and nearly missing him again as it retracted, creating a large bright scratch on Dream’s chestplate. The tree the first blade was stuck in erupted in a spray of splinters. Dream jumped with a cry as that first blade ripped past his feet.

Dream began to realize he couldn’t win this fight. His mouth was set in a frown, but the mouth on his mask was curled in fear. Fear that everyone could see plain as day. 

The Technoblade grew ever so more ear splittingly clamorous, drowning out the sound of Dream’s own heartbeat, almost drowning out the sound of his own thoughts. The blades split into dozens of smaller blades, each connected to the hilt on the same indestructible cords.

The pigman slowly began to hover in the air, his eyes growing larger, completely swallowed up by white. His tusks grew longer and thicker, his expression was hungry.

Dream ducked and rolled with a new burst of energy he had been saving. Every way he turned, a blade grazed his armor, sent a jolt of pain up his arm as he clumsily blocked it with his own sword, caused air to rush past his ear. Trees and soil and rocks all flew all around as the Technoblade shattered them all equally. 

Dream had to slice through chunks of boulders, logs thicker than his body, and still parry and dodge the Technoblade. Every muscle in his body ached, his sweat was truly blinding him as it pooled beneath his mask. He couldn’t get enough air into his lungs, and the air itself was superheated by his power sword and the monstrosity that was the other weapon. 

Another grazing cut nicked Dream’s leg, he stumbled but managed to avoid a killing blow with a perfectly timed somersault. The pigman’s snout sniffed greedily, and his eyes widened even further in interest. The attacks lessened, and Dream welcomed the respite.

Dream thought he could hear something, from the weapon itself. He strained his hearing. 

“Blood,” he thought he heard. The Technoblade itself was talking! 

“Blood,” the pigman repeated back to his weapon, confirming Dream’s suspicions. “Blood for the blood god!” the pigman continued with unbridled sadistic glee. 

“Blood for the blood god! Lỹgga Jaśati lỹggǫraz! Hai Bodûssas!” He repeated his incantation in a form of Piglish Dream didn’t recognize, over and over again. 

The onslaught began again ten times as fervently as before. Dream simply couldn’t keep up. A thousand little cuts built up, until finally, after repelling six blows in row, the seventh managed to knock his sword out of his palm, which was slick with sweat and blood. 

Dream swallowed, dropped to his knees, closed his eyes, and prepared for the end.

“Dream no!” Sapnap sobbed, “Leave him alone! You won! Don’t kill him! You won! You won! Don’t kill him _please_!” 

Sapnap started to charge from behind his shelter, battle axe raised in defiance. 

“No Sapnap,” Dream said quietly, and yet everyone could hear him over the din. Sapnap paused, his axe still in the air. The pigman had only momentarily been distracted. He turned his attention back to Dream fully, recalling all the tendrils of his horrific weapon. Then, all of them, at least two dozen, focused their aim directly on Dream. 

The whips reared, and Dream braced himself. The pigman brought down his arm with a shout, and all of them at once shot toward Dream at breakneck speed. 

“George, take care of Sapnap and the others,” Dream said placidly, eyes still closed, “It’s up to you to find the End Crystals now. I believe in you.”

Dream felt a rush of air, but didn’t feel the punch of several knives carving him up and piercing his flesh. He tepidly opened his eyes. The blades had stopped inches from his face.

The pigman looked confused, frozen in time. His pupils were visible again, and he began to float back down to the ground.

“End Crystals? You mean you’re looking for the _End Crystals_? Heagh?” 

“Enough!” George squealed, leaping from behind a boulder that had several sizeable holes in it now. He drew a single arrow and notched it.

“This ends _now_!” he let his arrow fly. Dream watched it almost in slow motion, as it snaked between all the tentacles of the Technoblade, directly into the crown atop its wielder’s head. 

With a grunt, the pigman fell abruptly to the ground, as his crown clattered a few feet away from him. The Technoblade immediately stopped whirring and humming, all the various blades being sucked back up into the hilt. It was just an ordinary iron sword again. The quiet was deafening.

A now pale hand patted the top of a head with hair, checking for injuries or assuring that the crown really was gone, or both. A human face looked up at Dream and his friends, shocked. 

“You-” the now fully human man began, but stopped. “You… defeated me… but I had won. I was going to win… you… you…” he was at a loss. The least among them had defeated him with a single blow. 

“Dream!” Sapnap reached Dream and helped him tenderly to his feet. Dream winced but was steady on his feet. Sapnap handed him his sword back. Dream took it up with a gruff thanks. He strode with great difficult over to his fallen foe, resting the edge of his blade at the man’s chin. 

Up close, his human face was strikingly beautiful. Angular, precise, symmetrical. His jaw was strong, his nose flat but narrow, his eyebrows shapely, black, and thick. His eyes were a deep lavender, his hair was white but had a distinct pink hue to it. His ears however were larger than a humans, and pointed. Just the barest tips of what were tusks poked through his full lips.

“Dream don’t kill him, we need information,” George reminded him. Dream was tempted to ignore him, to raise his sword high and bring it down with full prejudice on this man’s face, smashing it in. He wanted to feel bones crunching and hear the squelch of flesh beaten to a pulp. 

“Do it,” the man said, but not with spite, with resignation. He was sad he lost. His reputation and honor were ruined. He wanted to die. Dream thought he should indulge him his wish, but George was right. George was almost always right.

“Who are you?” Dream asked instead, but not letting the pressure off the man’s throat. 

“I am the Prince of Inobųtośa,” he said matter of factly. 

“ _Inobria_ fell half a millennium ago. Everyone died. There’s nothing left but ruins,” Dream retorted. 

“I defend what’s left of… Inobria,” the Prince’s nostrils flared and his eyes narrowed. Dream had struck a nerve. It felt good to be in the position of power again, to not feel helpless and despairing. 

“I think he’s telling the truth,” George sidled up next to Dream, his hand softly touching at Dream’s elbow. The pain in Dream’s arm almost subsided where George touched him.

“What he was saying earlier? That was Classical Piglin,” George continued, “He was saying a prayer to the old god of war and also fertility I think? You’ve heard of Vónys right? Anyway nobody alive can speak Classical Piglin fluently, not from what I’ve heard. Inobria in Classical Piglin is Inobųtośa.” 

“So he’s an egghead who studies fake history no one cares about,” Sapnap snorted, taking his place at Dream’s other side, an imposing presence. “I don’t care, if you try to kill Dream, you’re going down,” he pointed at his burly chest, his eyes full of fire. Dream couldn’t exactly say he didn’t feel the same way.

“Watch your tongue overlarge boyman,” The Prince huffed. “Don’t insult Inobųtośa unless you want me to cut it out! You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“What’d you say to me?” Sapnap bristled, once again bringing up his axe. The Prince looked bored. 

“I said, in case you didn’t hear me, that you’re an utter _fool_ , a complete _moron_ , an absolute _buffoon_!” The Prince shouted in a monotonous tone. 

Dream couldn’t help himself but chuckle at Sapnap’s expense, who looked at him with a betrayed expression. 

“Dream, he hurt my feelings. Punish him.”

“Never mind all that!” Dream interrupted, his face was stony but his mask grinned at Sapnap, and he could feel George stifling his watery little giggles at his other side.

“What’s your _name_?” Dream insisted, pressing his blade just a little bit more into the Prince’s neck. A tiny well of dark red blood formed. 

“I-” the Prince swallowed, causing the nick on his throat to widen. He winced. “I don’t remember my name. Truthfully, I don’t. It’s been so long all I remember is my duty and my vengeance. You see I was cursed, a thousand years ago.”

“Oh _please_ ,” Sapnap sneered. 

“Please, before you kill me, if you kill me, let me explain myself. And then you can explain yourselves. If you’re really not here to steal my crown or my sword, that is. Know that I have no intention of killing those who don’t deserve it. That is not in my character. I was… mistaken in attacking you.” 

“I suppose we were mistaken too,” George said after Dream stayed silent. Sapnap threatened to pop George’s head off for his apology, but Dream knew George was right yet again.

“Truce?” The Prince offered, and Dream could tell by looking in his resentful proud eyes that this was stooping _low_ for him. 

“Truce.”

The Prince dropped the infamous weapon and held his hands up palms out. He tentatively began to rise, and Dream allowed him. He removed his power sword from the Prince’s throat and powered it down.

The Prince dusted off his royal looking clothes. He hummed in disappointed interest when he noticed his cloak in tatters among the leaf litter. It was fully night, the sun had completely sunken past the horizon, only a few smears of pink and orange were left in the sky. Insects began to buzz and night birds began to call. The forest had forgotten the battle that had just ended minutes before. 

“You’re wounded pretty badly, allow me to offer you a healing potion, as a gesture of losing the duel to a worthy opponent, in good faith,” the Prince cut in through the pleasant night noise. Perhaps he was bragging, but offending each other was not in anyone’s best interest at the moment. 

“You think we’ll trust you?” Sapnap spat. Dream sighed. 

“Obviously not,” The Prince said coolly.

“Puffy can sing you a healing spell,” Sapnap tugged on Dream’s sleeve like a petulant child. Dream waved him off, and accepted the potion with his free hand, but he didn’t drink it right away. Instead he turned to George.

“Make us a fire.”

All four of them sat around the fire warming themselves in the evening chill, having nothing to eat but some strips of dried rabbit, and a little bad wine to drink, which the Prince commented on at length. It was good enough for Dream, after choking down the incredibly bitter and sulphureous healing potion. Finally, with their stomachs full and their heads spinning the Prince began to tell his story. 

“A great Piglin warlord gathered up all the clans to the east, and he waged war on this kingdom. He was jealous of its wealth and knowledge. He had always hated humans you see, even though the humans of this kingdom were always generous and cooperative.”

“Of course he did, Piglins are violent and destructive by nature,” Dream slurred. 

The Prince shot him a sharp glance. 

“Wait, humans didn’t show up in this continent until approximately 750 years ago by the most liberal estimates in archeology,” George hiccupped. “There’s no way.”

“Are you a Villager?” Sapnap blurted out rudely. The Prince ignored him, looking at George with an air that disguised how drunk he was.

“Humans have been here longer than you think. There is much you don’t know about the world. Much the history books have forgotten, or omitted. You’re used to being the smartest person among everyone you talk to, but that won’t get you far in this world. Not when there’s so much you _truly_ are ignorant of.” 

George could at least blame his burning cheeks on the wine. Dream suspected the Prince might just be a little peeved that George had been the one among hundreds of challengers to defeat him, but it had been a low blow. 

“And Piglins have always been a peaceful race who value nature and art more than anything else, think before you speak, and show some compassion,” The Prince said rather pointedly to Dream. Dream’s face stayed neutral, but his mask blushed in embarrassment. 

“I was the Crown Prince, the favored son. The people and nobles loved me alike, and I had led them all to victory before. So it was always meant to end the way it did. I did battle with the Warlord, I still can’t recall how many hours we fought, but in the middle of our duel, his elite taŋgą̃rtù… uh, I guess you’d call them berserkers? Stormed the inner palace and murdered my entire family. When I finally struck him down, and drove my blade into his black, hateful heart, he cursed the crown I wore with his dying breath. I would never wither, staying young forever, to live with my shame. And the crown that powered my most prized weapon would reveal what a monster I am on the inside.”

The Prince guzzled the last of his wine from the wineskin, staring into the distance. Dream wasn’t sober, but he thought he saw moisture in the Prince’s eyes. But it was gone as quickly as it appeared.

It sounded like a story from a book of fairytales Dream might’ve read as a child. Perhaps the Prince inspired one of those stories. Stranger things had happened. 

“I don’t know… it feels like you’re leaving a lot of details out,” George hummed. Dream was glad he wasn’t the only one who was skeptical. 

“Of course I have, but that’s the basics. Now, what about _you_. What’s your story?”  
Dream inhaled sharply, and made to sit up, but the wine hit him all at once and he collapsed backward with a content little groan. Sapnap had already begun snoring. George tsked, and began to explain their adventure to the mysterious prince.

After much hiccupping, and stepping on Sapnap in his search for a tree that was still standing so he could relieve himself several times, George managed to summarize their quest in a reasonable timeframe.

“And so you see, we need all seven End Crystals. We didn’t have much to go on, but there were sources that _barely_ suggested the Violet Crystal was in the woods of Old Inobria, somewhere. We searched the Temple for more clues, but there was nothing.”

“The sources were wrong,” the Prince said frankly. “If there were ever an End Crystal here, I never knew about it. And the Temple is a death trap now. I’m impressed you survived that place. But then again, you stood your ground against me far longer than any other opponent I’ve faced.” 

Dream’s mask slumped in disappointment, but his real face smirked. He felt like that was a genuine compliment, and Dream usually didn’t take his rivals’ opinions seriously. This Prince may be strange, and possibly a liar, and he was unspeakably dangerous, but Dream respected him. However the confirmation that this whole detour in their path had been a waste of time stung harder than all of the Technoblade’s cuts.

“But, I think I can help you find something even better,” the Prince said just as Sapnap jolted up and let out a thunderous belch.

Dream perked up in interest. 

“As payment for the trouble I caused you, and as thanks for sparing my admittedly wretched life, I will help you in your quest, if is it indeed as important as you say it is,” the Prince said ominously.

“We’ll take any help we can get,” Dream said excitedly. George nodded beside him, before complaining about the spins, and vomiting on Sapnap’s lap shortly after that. Dream rubbed his back comfortingly. George mewled and melted into Dream's chest.

"But we should have a name for you. What do you want to be called, since you can't remember your name?" Dream pressed, struggling not to smile from George's hair tickling his chin. His mask beamed anyway.

“Why, Technoblade, I guess. It only makes sense,” Technoblade said with a shrug.

“That’ll do, pig. That’ll do,” Sapnap slurred happily in his half woken stupor.

"S'a good name," George murmured sleepily from the crook of Dream's neck, his breath huffing against Dream's skin, making it tingle. His mask formed a little "o" with its mouth and his ears tipped scarlet, but it wasn't that noticeable in the firelight.

"Technoblade it is," Dream agreed, staving off the unbearably warm feeling blooming in his chest from the full bodied contact with George.

“Well, now that that's settled. Dream, George, Sapnap,” Technoblade looked at each of them in turn, as if committing their names and blank, drunk faces to memory, “Now that we're all acquainted, and not on murderous terms, allow me to offer my assistance to your crusade: I know where to find a dragon egg.” 

#  **___*___*___*___*___*___*___*___**

Deep in the darkest bowels of Nether, the air choked with volcanic fumes and poisonous spores, the lone assassin stood before his master’s throne. The only source of light were soul torches; he could barely make out the outlines of his own hand. 

Here in the Fortress, it was strangely cool compared to the outside. It made his skin crawl. The constant howling of prisoners being tortured, the moans of ghasts, the roaring of blazes, all of it was muted in the inner sanctum. It was just him and his master, and the stiflingly cold, sterile air. 

He could hardly breathe. 

“My spies tell me a young man seeks the End Crystals,” a hoarse whisper caressed his ears. 

He nodded dutifully. His master often spoke this way while giving his reports and giving him a new target. This was routine by now. He had killed several people who were stupid enough to search for the End Crystals in his time.

“The one they call Dream…” the voice rasped in the darkness, emotion almost threatening to spill over the unshakably serene demeanor his master _never_ broke.

This was new. His master almost never gave a name. That was usually mundane, irrelevant. At most he’d be given an approximate location, a description if it were really important enough.

He shuddered under his master’s gaze, not liking this side of him, but he stifled it. He was not to show weakness, in any form, at any time or place. He was stronger than obsidian. He was his master’s most prized assassin, and the master’s most prized assassin wasn’t fazed by anything. 

“Find this Dream. Kill anyone who aids him, anyone who stands in your way. Bring him to me, alive. Do this for me, child. Bring me this most magnificent gift.” 

Alive. That was also new. That was _very_ new. Again, he suppressed his curiosity and growing discomfort. The master’s most prized assassin was not supposed to think for himself.

“Yes, my lord,” Halo answered dutifully in his high pitched warbling timbre, “it shall be done.”


End file.
